


Scrying Session

by SofiaTheFangirl



Category: Pellinor - Alison Croggon
Genre: F/M, Love, Romance, Romantic Angst, SCRYING, Secrets, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SofiaTheFangirl/pseuds/SofiaTheFangirl
Summary: When Maerad accuses Cadvan of being a Hull, he has no choice but to let himself be scried. What it reveals nearly kills him inside. But Maerad will always be there.~ a Pellinor oneshot ~
Relationships: Cadvan of Lirigon/Maerad of Pellinor
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Scrying Session

Maerad stood before him, surrounded in a halo of blazing fury. This was so unlike the Maerad he knew - the calm, stubborn, slightly shy woman Cadvan knew so well. And it broke his heart. 

“Prove it,” she hissed. “Prove you’re not a Hull.” They were in his room in Norloch, and somehow she had discovered his past - a past he would gladly forget. 

“Maerad, I’m not a Hull,” he pleaded, taking a step closer to her. He watched her face flicker in doubt, before hardening again. She flicked a lock of black hair out of her face angrily. God, she was gorgeous, even when mad like this. It was terribly distracting. 

_She’s my student,_ he reminded himself sternly, even as he felt something warm flutter between his ribs. _And I’m her mentor. This is ridiculous. Cadvan of Lirigon, great Bard? You haven’t so much as looked at a woman in forty years._

He shook his head. He was a lecherous, perverted old man and needed to stop looking at her like that. He could tell it made her uncomfortable, anyway. But she was so _beautiful_ -

Maerad was talking again. “Why should I believe anything you say?” That hurt him more than he would like to admit. After decades of people distrusting him, looking at him suspiciously, denouncing him as a servant of the Dark, it was nice to have someone who trusted him. But of course, this wasn’t meant to last. 

There was one way to make her trust him again - but it was incredibly painful for both of them, and something Cadvan would not particularly like to go through. But…

“You can… you could scry me,” he suggested hesitantly. He saw her search his eyes, as if looking for any regret. He carefully wiped his expression, as if he wasn’t about to share his most private thoughts and memories with her. There were things he would rather keep to himself, but if it was the only way? He would do it. They had to unconditionally trust each other. And they weren’t on fair footing. He had already scried her.

Maerad reached out with surprising gentleness and touched his hand. 

“I won’t do that to you,” she said softly. He exhaled sharply. 

“You have to. Or you’ll never… you’ll never know. Or trust me. Ever again.”

Cadvan sat down heavily on a couch, Maerad next to him. 

“Take my hands,” she instructed. He did so. What if they were clammy, or cold, or sweaty, or rough, or - He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for the emotional onslaught to come. 

Soon, he felt a probing presence. Against all his instincts, he opened the doors of his mind and let her in, gasping as she sped through his memories. 

The first shoe he ever made - when he discovered he was a Bard - his first encounter with Likud - all the Dark spells he learned - his time at Lirigon - when he met Ceredin - their first kiss - the one time they slept together -

He flinched at that, and felt Maerad’s presence shrink away with him. Yes. There were definitely things he didn’t want her to see. But he really was a mess - and what was he doing with his _hands?_ Such an amateur. 

The memories continued - and they only got worse. Cadvan watched in desperate horror as he saw Ceredin struck down by Kansabur, cleaved in two again and again and again as he could only stand there and scream -

But then they moved on. He met Nerili, they engaged in lazy activities - again, things he would rather Maerad not see - they left each other, he returned to Norloch and was reinstated, he wandered the continent, tracking down Hulls. 

And then he was in the Landrost’s mountain, enduring weeks of endless torture. He winced at that, at seeing where the many scars on his body had come from. He felt Maerad flinch in horror. 

He made his way to Gilman’s Cot, completely spent. There was his shock at seeing a Bard _there_ of all places - and he watched himself take Maerad out, saw her play her lyre, and scried her very briefly. It was odd to see these familiar memories play out as if from the eyes of a third person.

They fought the wers, made their way to Innail, Maerad had her first period - he blushed deeply at that one, thinking of his reaction - they found Hem, he was whipped by a Hull, they reached Norloch, and here they were. 

The overwhelming deluge of feelings that came with each memory flooded him. But the grief was the strongest of them all. All he had lost, all he had found - his life was just a circle. Cadvan opened his eyes, covered his face with his hands, and cried. He cried for Ceredin and Dernhil and Selmana. He cried for Maerad’s fate, which was as dark and full of pain as the midnight sky. But most of all, he cried for what he had become; a cold, cold person believing himself unworthy of love. 

Soon, he felt Maerad’s arms wrap around him. Of course Maerad still cared about him. He sobbed into the soft space between her neck and her shoulder, his entire body shaking. She pulled back slightly, looked him straight in the eye, and tugged his mind into hers.

At first, he was too shocked to do anything as he was pulled through Maerad’s memories. She barely recalled Pellinor, but her awful times at Gilman’s Cot were prevalent. He barely restrained a growl as he saw her nearly raped, and then almost drowned. But then he saw himself how she must have seen him first - ragged, exhausted, barely even alive after the torture he went through. 

Cadvan remembered the first time he scried Maerad. He had barely touched the surface of her memories, but here, she was opening the gates of her mind freely for him. He wanted to cry, but he was already doing that, so instead he gripped Maerad to him more closely, feeling her heartbeat press against his chest. 

Suddenly, he felt a warm, foreign feeling rush through him. He leaned back fast enough to give him whiplash, gripped Maerad’s face in his hands roughly, and kissed her. She made a small startled noise against his lips. Two broken souls. He held her more tightly, if even possible, and nearly melted as she encircled her arms around his neck and tilted her head slightly, returning the kiss with passion. 

A knock sounded at the door. He growled and locked it with a flick of his hand. Maerad pulled back, but he held her in place with an arm, eyes still closed. 

“Cadvan?” It was Nelac. And out of all the times.

He broke away, panting. “I’m busy. Come back later.” It was a little rude, yes, but he was loath to stop kissing the perfect angel in front of him. 

Nelac tried the door. “And what are you doing?” he asked, clearly amused. 

Cadvan looked around for an excuse. “Working on an extremely difficult spell that requires enormous amounts of concentration.”

“Well. I’ll ask you about it later,” he replied, chuckling. “Have fun… with whatever you’re really doing.” Cadvan groaned. Great. Now his old teacher thought he was getting promiscuous. What an image. 

“Ignore him,” Maerad said softly. He stroked the soft curve of her neck. She was so perfect, so beautiful. He had no idea how he restrained himself for so long. He leaned forward and trapped her lips in his own, entangling his hands in her long curls. They were tangled, but he loved them anyway. 

“Let him guess,” he whispered on her lips. They curved into a smile. 

“This changes things,” she said when they parted. She almost looked nervous, as if he was just going to abandon her. 

“Looks like the rumors got something right after all,” he murmured. She laughed. He basked in the glow of her joy. 

All was well.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was fluffy :) I hope you liked it!


End file.
